


One More Mistake for the Road

by burglebezzlement



Category: The Orville (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Drinking, Drinking Games, F/M, Yuletide Treat, mess hall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-18 07:29:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13095321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burglebezzlement/pseuds/burglebezzlement
Summary: During a repair stop at Base Eight, Ed introduces his crew to an ancient Earth custom: the drinking game Never Have I Ever.





	One More Mistake for the Road

**Author's Note:**

  * For [days4daisy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/days4daisy/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide!
> 
> Please note that this fic includes the sort of consent issues you’d expect from a ship with a canonical power differential, as well as the kind of consent issues you’d expect from someone getting very drunk.

There’s always a repair berth free at Base Eight.

Unfortunately, there’s a reason for that. Base Eight is at the edge of Union space, in orbit around Tellas IV, a colony populated by T’rillians, an ancient species of methanovores with a fascinating culture and the odor of over-ripe Fnarian cheese mixed with week-old sweat socks.

Alara had heard that the smell in T’rillan-occupied spaces could be pungent, but she wasn’t prepared for the stench that met the crew when the Orville arrived for an overhaul of their communication systems. The ship has been in the berth for a week, and the crew is getting restless. Normally, an extended period on base means the crew gets to claim leisure time, but nobody has put in for a trip down to the planet.

As for Alara, she’s killing time in the mess hall, looking down at Tellas IV’s swirling yellow-brown clouds. Never before has a planet looked so much like it smells.

She hears Ed’s step before she sees him. She ruthlessly suppresses the little lift her heart gives, knowing he’s coming over. He’s her captain. It’s inappropriate, and she’s not going to think about him that way. Not even if he’s the only one on the ship who doesn’t treat her like a weirdo just because she can bench-press his weight multiple times over.

“Hey,” Ed says. “You want to join us?”

“Us?” It comes out as a squeak.

“Me, Gordon, LaMarr. Anyone else who wants to join. We’re going to drink until we forget we’re orbiting Tellas IV.”

Alara pushes her glass back into the recycler at the center of the table. “Sure,” she says, and follows him over to one of the long tables. 

LaMarr and Malloy are already there, debating types of Earth alcohol Alara’s never heard of. Ed puts the bottle he’s carrying on the table. “Any Engineering problems I should be aware of?”

“Air filtration systems are all at maximum, Captain,” LaMarr says.

“Good man.” Ed claps LaMarr on the shoulder and pulls out a chair for Alara.

Bortus and Isaac wander over from the observation window.

“The game is Never Have I Ever,” Ed says. He slides the bottle over to Malloy, who passes out shot glasses to everyone and starts pouring. “How it works: each player states an action they have never taken. Everyone else around the table who has taken that action has to take a shot. The game ends when someone falls off their chair.”

“Sounds… safe,” Alara says. “Where’s this from?”

“Ancient Earth custom, twentieth century.” Ed straightens his uniform jacket. “Who’s in?”

Alara shrugs and pushes her shot glass forward for Malloy to fill. She’s got nothing better to do.

Bortus cocks his head to the side. “How do the players know that the others are telling the truth?”

“Because,” Ed says, and then he expands on his statement when Bortus’s expression doesn’t change. “It is considered dishonorable to lie in a game of Never Have I Ever.”

“A matter of honor.” Bortus inclines his head. “Very well. I wish to take part.”

Malloy grins. “Pull up a chair, man!”

Isaac sits down across from Bortus. “I also wish to take part.”

“How?” LaMarr asks. “You can’t drink!”

“Precisely.” Isaac raises one of his hands to indicate the bottle. “My model of this game indicates that not drinking would be a considerable advantage.”

“But that’s unfair,” Malloy protests. “Come on, Captain. If we’re going to let Isaac play he has to… I dunno. Run Windows 98 instead of taking a shot. Something.”

Bortus tilts his head. “Windows 98?”

“Another ancient Earth custom.” Ed shrugs. “I don’t see why Isaac can’t participate if he wants to.”

“Because he can’t drink.” Malloy puts full shot glasses in front of everyone, including Isaac.

“Participation would be helpful for my inquiry into human customs,” Isaac says.

Ed leans forward. “I propose a compromise: Isaac gets to play until he answers yes to something and fails to take his shot.”

“This is a bad idea.” Malloy shrugs. “Fine. Who goes first?”

Isaac raises his hand. “Never have I ever been a carbon-based life form.”

Malloy groans. “Come on, Captain!”

“You know the rules.” Ed throws back a shot and watches the rest of the table take theirs. 

Alara coughs at the taste of the Earth spirits. “Don’t humans have anything alcoholic that doesn’t burn?” she complains.

“Sure,” LaMarr says. “Humans have all kinds of alcohol. Some are so sweet you don’t even realize you’re getting drunk until it’s too late.”

“Why can’t we play with one of those ones?” Alara coughs again, and sets down her shot glass.

“Tradition,” Ed says. He pours everyone another round of shots. “Your turn, Bortus.”

“Very well.” Bortus raises his glass. “Never have I ever neglected my duty to the t’Moclatch.” He nods at his glass, and sets it back down on the table.

“Uh… what is that?” Malloy asks. “Do we drink, or what?”

“Only the Moclan have a duty to the t’Moclatch,” Bortus says. “It would be inappropriate for members of another species to drink to that.”

“Okay.” Ed sounds bemused. “LaMarr, you’re up.”

LaMarr looks at Malloy and grins. “Never have I ever lost a leg in a practical joke.”

Malloy looks around the table. “Fine.” He knocks back the shot, and then pours himself another. “Alara, your turn.”

“Uh —” Alara thinks. “Never have I ever… had to wear an exo-suit to visit a planet with high gravity.”

Bortus and LaMarr both drink. “The planet was not Xelaya,” Bortus informs them. “It was Bidptis X.”

LaMarr and Malloy’s eyes go wide. “I’m surprised they let you down there even with the suit,” LaMarr says.

Bortus nods. “I believe it is Lieutenant Malloy’s turn.”

Malloy stands and holds his shot glass dramatically out in front of himself. “Never have I ever gotten drunk before my final exam at the Academy.”

Ed groans. “You’re trying to make me lose, aren’t you? Fine.” He takes the shot. “My turn. Never have I ever… left a date with a different person than the one I came with.”

“See?” Malloy grins, and then takes his shot. “This is how you play.”

Alara looks around the table, and then takes her own shot. The burn’s not as bad this time. Either she’s acclimating to the Earth spirits, or they’re starting to affect her. Xelayans don’t get drunk as fast as humans do, but they can still feel the effects.

“Alara? Really?” Ed leans forward. “Tell us the story.”

“It’s not a big deal,” she says. “Just… my parents set me up for my graduation dance with someone, and he wasn’t who I wanted to go with.”

“Graduation dance?” Malloy asks.

“It’s a big deal on Xelaya.” Alara notices that she’s fidgeting, and stops. “Everyone gets dressed up, and there’s a ceremony and flowers, and then there’s dancing all night.”

Ed nods. “Like prom.”

“I don’t know what that is. Maybe. Anyway, my parents convinced their best friends’ son to ask me.” Jirdak was a nice enough guy — kind of a nerd, even by Xelayan standards, which seems weird now that Alara’s off Xelaya. It was nice of him to take her. Everyone in her class knew she was slow. It wasn’t like other people were lining up to take her. Her parents just wanted what was best for her.

“And he was a jerk?” Malloy asks. “And then you dumped him in front of everyone! Burn!”

“No, Jirdak was a really nice guy,” Alara insists. “But… he was super-into quantum drive design, and he didn’t stop talking about it all night, and then Pemal came over.” She sighs, thinking of Pemal. The hot guy in their class. Kind of a bad boy, but so, so hot. “He asked me to dance — it’s really scandalous, on Xelaya; you’re only supposed to dance with the person who brought you. But he was so hot, and he didn’t care about quantum drive design at all.”

LaMarr looks down. “Quantum drive design is pretty cool,” he says.

“Yeah, but you wouldn’t talk about it on a date, would you?” Alara shrugs. “Anyway. I took my shot. Who’s next?”

Isaac raises his hand. “Never have I ever been a biological flesh-organism.”

Everyone groans. “No fair,” Malloy says. “You can’t use the same thing twice.”

“That was not in Captain Mercer’s initial rule set.” Isaac tilts his head. “Are you changing the rules in order to avoid taking a shot?”

“Come on, Isaac.” Ed shakes his head. “This type of game is informal, and many rules are understood based on context.”

“Very well.” Isaac raises his hand again. “Never have I ever been unable to calculate the first fifty million primes without use of an outside calculating device.”

Everyone looks at one another. Ed leads the group in taking the shot.

Bortus is next, with another Moclan never-have-I-ever that none of the rest of them have heard of. Then it’s Malloy’s turn. “Never have I ever been an android,” he says, and glares at the rest of the group. “This is me sacrificing a chance to make the Captain take a shot, everyone. I hope you’re happy.”

Isaac stays seated. “This hardly seems fair,” he says. “That question was designed to take me out of the game!”

“Just like your questions were designed to get us all drunk.” Ed sighs. “Come on, Isaac. You can’t take the shot. You’re disqualified.”

“Fine.” Isaac pushes his shot glass in and gets up to leave.

The game gets competitive after that. Alara loses track of the number of rounds they’ve played when LaMarr gets Malloy and Ed with _Never have I ever dyed my hair to impress someone_. Bortus finally gets a hit with _Never have I ever taken t’kahnah_ , as soon as he explains what it means. 

Alara even manages to get Malloy to take a shot, with _Never have I ever snuck a pet cat onto the bridge and denied it when someone started sneezing._

“S’ not my fault Ed won’t let Claire give him the allergy treatments,” Malloy protests. 

Ed’s raising his glass to take a shot for _Never have I ever been allergic to cats_ when he starts sliding off his stool. “I’m not out,” Ed protests, as he goes over in slow motion, hands ineffectually grabbing at the table. “I’m not — fine.” He looks up from the floor. “Good job, everyone. Everyone but me is a winner.”

Malloy holds up a hand. “Everyone but you and Isaac.”

Ed shakes his head, and then winces. “Fine.”

“Come on, Captain.” Alara holds out a hand. She’s lost track of the rounds, but she’s pretty sure Ed’s beyond the usual limit for humans. LaMarr and Malloy are looking unsteady too, although Bortus seems unaffected.

Ed lets her haul him up. “Did we forget Tellas IV?” he asks.

“Not quite.” Alara holds back a giggle and puts her arm around him. “Let’s get you home.”

“G’night,” Ed says. He waves to everyone as they walk out of the mess hall. Alara keeps her arm around him and steers him into the hallway. He’s doing fine until they get to the spiral stairs, where he stumbles into the handrail.

Alara gives in and lifts Ed over her shoulder. This close, her Xelayan sense of smell is overwhelmed with the raw, human scent of him, strangely intoxicating. 

“‘M not a jar of pickles,” he protests.

She pats his shoulder, gauging the amount of force to use carefully, and then starts walking up the stairs, Ed still slung over her shoulder. “You’re my jar of pickles.”

She carries Ed down the hallway, crouching down when she gets to his berth so he can operate the door controls without her having to put him down. His warm bulk over her shoulder, against her back — it feels surprisingly intimate, surprisingly comfortable, being this close to him. 

She carries him into his bedroom and puts him down on his bed, gently, trying not to look around. It’s none of her business, what the captain might have in his bedroom. He starts taking off his captain’s jacket, fumbling the catch, and she gives in and helps him with it. 

In his blue-collared undershirt, he looks young. Vulnerable.

Alara sits at the edge of his bed. She should leave.

Ed reaches out for her hard. “Alara?”

She lets him take it, lets herself pretend. “Yeah?”

“Do you ever think about it?” He pauses. “Us, I mean. You and me.”

She pulls her hand away and gets up. “No.” She’s lying, but he’s too drunk to know that. “Have a good night, Captain.”

She leaves his room, leaves his quarters, reminding herself that she’s protecting him, she’s protecting herself — that they can’t be together like this. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them.

Her own quarters are dark, the wall-screen unlit, the bed cold and lonely. She prepares for bed and lies down, running through her nightly meditation to calm her mind and ready it for sleep, but her mind refuses to still.

Jirdak and Pemal. She hasn’t thought of them in years. Jirdak went into quantum drive design. Her parents still tell her what he’s up to, sometimes. They haven’t quite given up hope that their daughter will come home, marry the boy next door, and settle into a predictable Xelayan life.

Her date with Pemal had led to a messy, tumultuous relationship. They’d both ended up at the Academy at Union Point — not a popular choice for Xelayans, but they had shared an interest in the wider world. They’d broken up by the second year of classes, driven apart by conflicting schedules and priorities, but it had been a hell of a lot of fun in the meantime. 

_Maybe that’s what I’m missing_ , Alara thinks. _The fun._

She thinks of Ed’s warm weight over her shoulder. The way he looks at her when she opens a door or lifts something heavy or figures out a problem. Like she’s gifted. Like she’s special.

She gets up again. She’s still wearing her nightshirt when she hits the notify pad outside Ed’s door.

He answers before she can wonder if she should leave, before someone can come around the corner and see her, before she can have second thoughts. He’s there in front of her, his hair sticking up, t-shirt wrinkled, fully Ed-shaped.

“Hey.” She didn’t think this far ahead. “Can I come in?”

He steps back. He’s still got alcohol on his breath, but he’s more coordinated than he was when she carried him home, and she wonders if he took a metabolic booster. “Alara, if I said anything to make you uncomfortable, I can only apologize, a thousand times over, and —”

“Shut up.” She steps forward and lets the door shut behind her. Before it closes, she’s already got her arms around his neck, pushing him back towards the opposite wall, pinning him up against the bulkhead. She pulls his head down to kiss him, her lips warm against hers, his body solid and warm underneath her.

She opens her mouth, letting his tongue explore her own, and then lets him push her back towards his bedroom.

Ed pulls back before they cross the threshold. “Are you sure?” he asks, looking down into her eyes.

It’s a terrible idea. She knows that.

“I’m sure,” she says, and pulls him across the threshold.

_This is going to be a hell of a lot of fun._


End file.
